


Fourteen

by Waning_Grace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s10e12 About A Boy, Gen, Introspective Sam, Season/Series 10 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waning_Grace/pseuds/Waning_Grace
Summary: A witch's curse turns Dean into a teenager again and Sam's having a hard time adjusting... Set during s10's episode 'About a Boy'





	

Sam tries; he really does.

 

For the first five minutes or so he manages to (almost) convince himself that everything’s perfectly fine. Normal even, or as normal as things ever get in their line of work at least. They’re in the Impala, Sam guiding her easily along the dark highway in the direction Dean had indicated, heading off after a witch that’s been kidnapping people and Dean is in the passenger seat and Sam glances over automatically…

 

And that’s when reality comes crashing back in. 

 

Because the figure half huddled, half slouched in the passenger seat is Dean except yep, thanks to the witch they’re on their way to gank Dean’s still a freaking kid. And it’s still the friggin’ weirdest damn thing Sam can recall having laid his eyes on. It really shouldn’t be considering the years he’s been at this and the things he’s seen in the process, but damn if this isn’t sticking in his craw something fierce. Dean’s not looking at him, much to Sam’s utter relief, and he should probably be paying more attention to the road than staring at his brother yet Sam can’t help himself.

 

For everything that life’s thrown at him so far this has got to take the cake—Dean is fourteen years old again! Fourteen! He’s practically a baby and if that wasn’t weird enough for Sam to try wrapping his head around he simply cannot get over just how utterly _small_ Dean appears to be. It’s the darndest thing in a very long line of them because Sam can clearly recall Dean at fourteen from the original time around and the memories he has of that time just aren’t matching up with the whip-thin boy that’s sitting across from him now. Sam had only been ten at the time, and he clearly remembers being small himself, yet he remembers Dean who, even at that age, had been larger than life—not this skinny wisp of a kid. Granted, Dean’s missing their father’s old leather jacket, which now that he’s picturing it, Sam can recall it swallowing his brother whole back then, and finds himself sucking in a horrified breath as the implications form of just how much Dean used to use that coat to hide. _“It’s just like armor Sammy! Keeping me safe so you don’t have to worry, okay?”_ The Dean of his memories reassures him, patented cock-sure smile firmly in place as Sam mentally superimposes that image over the one in his actual vision. _Jesus…_ He swallows hard, forcing down the sudden knot that had formed, and forces his eyes back onto the road. How could he have ever thought Dean was giant back then?

 

They stay that way for a while; Sam driving with Dean slouching next to him, neither saying anything. Finally Sam can’t take it anymore: he looks back over—only to find Dean staring back at him, one eyebrow raised in silent confusion. “Something wrong there Sammy?” Dean asks, voice familiar and not at the same time and Sam feels something freeze inside him at the sound of it.

 

“No—nothing’s wrong. W-why would it be?” He stammers out, shifting back to the road again with all the focus of a laser. He coughs, nerves and being blatantly caught out staring while he was coming to an uncomfortable revelation making him jittery for reasons he doesn’t want to explore. “Why?” Sam tries for next, deliberately trying to make his voice sound light with feigned obliviousness. It’s an old tactic, and one that’s never quite worked out so hot in the past, but maybe, just maybe if he pretends nothing is wrong then perhaps Dean will go along with it as well…

 

“Uh-huh..” Dean drawls out, and sinks Sam’s hopeful ship right there because he may have been turned into a kid again but that doesn’t mean he got dumb in the process. Even at fourteen he could read Sammy like a book and that’s not something that’s dulled with age. Something’s going on and he’s going to find out what it is. “You always were a sucky liar, Sam.” He warns, uncaring that the threat sounds totally pathetic coming out in his newly acquired squeaky voice. “Spill it.”

 

If there’s one thing to be grateful for it’s the fact that it’s nighttime and it’s dark in the car which means hopefully (not that he’s holding out much now) Dean can’t see the heat that’s creeping up Sam’s face at being called out.  What was he supposed to do now? Common sense told him to just come clean and tell Dean what he was thinking of yet Sam shot that down quickly. It was one thing to be thinking of how small his brother was, and god he was never going to get over that, but it was a whole other to come out and tell said brother that to his face. “I was---“ he starts, shooting another quick look over at Dean and his scowling visage, before petering out because frankly he doesn’t know what to say here.

 

There’s a lot he would _like_ to say: “Were you always this small? You’re too freaking skinny to be fourteen Dean! I bet I could count your ribs! Why didn’t you make sure you were eating enough too? Why didn’t dad notice?” but the recriminations die in his throat because deep down, Sam already knows the answer to everything without even trying. It’s because of him. Despite the anger churning in his guts at their father for not noticing, or even seemingly caring, that his oldest son had to be starving himself on some level Sam knows the blame rests on his shoulders as well. He knows, has known for a long, long time now, that Dean gave up a lot for him when they were growing up, yet it’s never really struck home just how true that was until now. It’s a classic case of knowing something verses the actuality of seeing it and now that he’s seen it Sam knows he’ll never forget it, just like he knows he’ll never be able to repay Dean for it either.

 

A cough comes from the passenger seat, jarring Sam back out of his spiraling thoughts and yep, even from just a quick glance at him, he can tell Dean’s still waiting on an answer. “What do you want me to say?” Sam asks the windshield, eyes focused on the yellow and white lines glowing under the onslaught of the impala’s headlights. “You’re a kid dude! It’s just weird is all.”

 

It’s as close to the actual truth as Sam can get without actively pissing his brother off yet the words manage to hang heavy in the air between them nonetheless. _Shit! You dumbass!_ Sam thinks as the seconds tick by, internally cursing himself for going ahead and opening his big mouth because he knows Dean and he knows he’s going to see straight through his words to the things he didn’t say instead and Sam knows he’s going to be pissed. Just to prove his point a rumbled “Sammy,” comes from the passenger seat, disapproving tone fully in place despite his brother’s currently higher pitched than normal voice.

 

It does the trick of pulling Sam to a halt mid-mental tirade before he can get fully worked up but it does nothing whatsoever to calm the churning that’s started up in Sam’s gut. It’s completely and utterly stupid to be getting so worked up over this when there’s still so much more going on in between them, Sam knows, but apparently his body has decided that enough is enough and it’s moving on without him. Anxiety claws up his spine as his stomach turns and Sam hates how helpless he feels all of a sudden because he doesn’t want to fight Dean, he’s so sick of fighting he could just scream and he’s just so, _so_ done—“It’s not your fault, you know.” Dean chooses that moment to speak up, his voice full of concern and that right there just sends Sam to a grinding halt.

 

He (finally) pulls his head out of his ass and his eyes away from the hypnotizing lines on the road to find Dean regarding him with a look that clearly says ‘I know what you were thinking and I don’t like it one bit’. It’s so very Dean despite the smaller body that Sam can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up in him in relief. Despite all his fears Dean doesn’t look pissed off beyond the worried look he’s giving Sam. “Sammy.” He says again, making sure he has his brother’s attention before continuing. “It isn’t your fault.” Dean repeats again, voice firm. “You hear me? Now, I don’t know what you’re thinking exactly but I have a pretty good idea and I’ll tell you one more time: it isn’t your fault. I never did a damn thing I didn’t want to so just get over whatever it is your thinking.”

 

 The words wash over him like the tide lapping at a beach and the funny thing is, Sam finds himself believing Dean. It doesn’t negate the guilt, not at all, but it does do the trick of pushing some of the blame off his shoulders because his brother’s right. It really _isn’t_ Sam’s fault; how could it be? He was just a child himself and he knows, hell he remembers, viscerally that there wasn’t a damn thing that either one of them could have done to change their shitty childhood. “Dean.” Sam chokes out, doing an absolutely crappy job at pulling himself under control and can’t find it within himself to give a damn about it either when he spots lights on the roadside up ahead.

 

He slows the car to a crawl, squinting through the windshield at the outline of a large house that’s just visible thanks to the light spilling from some of the windows. “Is that it?” Sam asks, voice clogged with pent-up emotion as he scrambles to shift his mental gearshift back towards the case at hand. This thing between him and Dean isn’t over, not by a long shot, and he’s positive there will be a talk in the near future as well, but for now there’s a witch to kill after they figure out how to get Dean back to normal again.

 

From the corner of his eye Sam can tell Dean’s giving him that look: the one that clearly reads ‘we’re going to continue this later’ and yep, that pretty much confirms his suspicions. Finally his older (younger?) brother gathers himself and huffs impatiently before looking out of the window himself. “Yeah, that’s the place.” He confirms, one hand already moving towards the passenger door handle. “Let’s do this.”

 

Right. Time to get to work. Sam lets his breath out in a huff, mentally stowing his crap away again as he guides the car off the road and switches off the headlights. It’s time to get over himself—they’ll deal with his crap later but first they have people to save and a witch to kill. “Yeah, I’m with ya.” He tells Dean as he opens the car door.


End file.
